


but that's wishful thinking

by Milzilla



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, That's it, alex holds a baby, and michael is emo about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25063168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milzilla/pseuds/Milzilla
Summary: michael sees alex holding a baby and it brings up some old (and not so old) feelings
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 11
Kudos: 157





	but that's wishful thinking

**Author's Note:**

> i'm moving some things over from my tumblr to keep track of them.
> 
> and we can never have enough michael-is-soft-for-alex-with-a-baby fics.

“Hey, come in!”

Michael lets himself into Alex’s house, shutting the door gently behind him.

“Liz sent me with food!” He announces, rattling the paper bag in his hand.

“In here!” Alex calls from the living room. His voice is deliberately soft, melodic, and it smooths out Michael's rough edges.

He turns the corner, eyes seeking Alex like they always do, and he freezes at the sight he's met with.

Alex, reclined on his couch, a baby curled up on his chest.

Michael's heart swells painfully in his chest. Alex has one hand resting gently on the baby's back, their small body rising with each deep breath he takes. They have one tiny hand curled against his plaid shirt, their little cheek smushed against his body.

"Hey," Alex says, his smile soft. "Liz sent you?"

Michael has to work around the lump in his throat before he can speak. "Uh, yeah. She said you would forget to feed yourself."

"Hurtful." Alex grins. "I didn't forget. I just got - stuck."

Michael nods dumbly. "I can see that."

"She fell asleep," Alex explains unnecessarily, smoothing his hand down the little one's back. "I didn't want to move in case it woke her up."

"How long you been trapped?" Michael asks, instead of all the other things he wants to ask. Alex's grimace is answer enough. "Let me help. I've got a gentle touch."

Alex nods gratefully. "If you could just lift her so I can get up."

Michael puts the food down on the table and walks over. He reaches down to slip his hands around the kid, uses his TK to lift her oh-so-gently off of Alex's chest and into his waiting hands. She stirs a little as he lifts her, pressing her to his own chest with a hand cradling her delicate skull.

He watched as Alex lifts himself off the couch, stretching out his legs and then his back, his shirt riding up just enough to flash some skin above the cut of his jeans. When he finally looks at Michael, something flashes across his face, too quick to analyse.

"Come on," he says. "We'll put her on my bed."

Michael follows him to the bedroom, hyper aware of every in and out of her breath. He watches silently as Alex sets up the bed, then guides Michael to place her in the middle. He fusses over her for a minute, then gestures to Michael when he's finally done.

They slip out the door, which Alex leaves ajar. They stand there and look in at her. 

By that point, Michael's about ready to burst.

"Whose kid -"

"My niece," Alex answers, before the question is fully out. "I agreed to watch her while Greg’s running errands in town.”

Michael hums in acknowledgement. He can’t look away from Alex’s face, the way that even the corners of his eyes seem to have softened in response to this tiny presence.

“She’s got his big-ass forehead,” he says eventually.

That makes Alex laugh, an amused puff of air. “We have the same forehead, Guerin.”

“Huh.” He’s grinning, high on the feeling of making Alex laugh.

There’s silence for a moment, and Michael’s thinking about reminding Alex of the food, when Alex breaks the silence.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asks, so quiet that Michael almost misses it. But he doesn’t. 

“What?” His heart’s in his throat.

“Kids,” Alex clarifies.

But Michael doesn’t need him to. He’s thinking about the way Alex’s hand had pressed so gently against the baby’s back. He’s thinking about a little kid with Alex’s dark hair and eyes, about a house full of foster kids, about Aunt Izzy and Uncle Max, about height charts and singing their kids to sleep and playing guitar on Sundays, about band practice in Alex’s garage, and the garden he’d planned for their front yard.

A gentle “Guerin?” pulls him from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he says, and his mouth feels dry. “I did.”

Alex finally turns to look at him, eyes wide with surprise. “Did?” he asks tentatively, like he’s afraid of the answer.

Michael reaches out to grab Alex’s hand, relieved when he’s allowed, and looks down at their intertwined fingers.

“Do,” he murmurs. “I never stopped thinking about it.”

“Are you -” Alex hesitates, then seems to make a decision about something. “We need to stop talking in metaphors.”

“m not,” Michael protests. “Not completely, anyway. I mean it. But I also mean - the other thing.”

“The other thing.”

He shrugs, but he’s still holding onto Alex’s hand, thumb rubbing slow over Alex’s knuckles. 

Alex takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose. “Is there enough food in that bag for two?”

Michael grins sheepishly. “There might be.”

“Stay and eat?” Alex asks. “We can talk about - the other thing.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees easily. “She’s pretty cute, y’know. Even with the forehead.”

Alex shoves him lightly as they walk back down the hallway. “She’s fucking adorable and you know it.”


End file.
